The evening wind is a gentle pressure against our bodies as we look out at the waves, the light of the full moon reflecting on the gathering seafoam. His hand squeezes mine. I tip my head to try to encompass the vastness of the sky. I feel myself expand to hold it all – the huge luminous moon, the velvet sky, the endless ocean, and his love. He holds me, kissing my face, tasting my tears. “What is the ocean to you?” he asks.

She is mother. The ocean is infinite unconditional love. She is the goddess, Aphrodite. My sadness and rage can be taken in and transformed in her waves. She is birth and rebirth. She is life.

Intense emotion rises in my core. We stand shoulder to shoulder, balanced between moon and waves. I want to scream into the waves, but it’s too hard to find the right moment to release. The pressure inside builds, but I still can’t let go. I know he feels me struggle, but he just holds the space in love. I breath in the wild ocean air, letting it penetrate and purify me. When I exhale, every shred of pain I am feeling is carried out with my voice and swallowed by the waves…

_______

We are tangled in the sheets, wet with sweat and desire. I arch my back, pressing my ass against his erection. He holds me against him, one arm pressed against my throat, one hand pinning my hip in place. I writhe and moan because I want him to fuck me more than I can ever remember wanting anything. His voice is soft and firm in my ear, but I can’t process what he says. I am consumed with wanting. Teeth grasp hard at the junction of neck and shoulder. I flinch and cry out, then fall still at his touch…

_______

I can’t seem to stop talking. My voice has decided that I won’t sit still and be quiet. Freed by the ocean and made vulnerable by his trust, I tell him everything about my life. I want to know everything about his. We make dinner together in the tiny kitchen that makes frequent contact necessary. We sing along with Queen and dirty dance in the kitchen. I kiss him deep as the ocean and pull back a few inches. He shudders at the energy of it, his blue eyes wide…

_______

I can feel the rhythm of the waves in my body, desire running from my cunt to my heart and back again. Looking down at his beautiful face, I want to hold on to this moment forever. I slide his cock inside me a centimeter at a time. I am awash in love. So slowly, I rock back to take in his whole length. I want him slow and soft. His hips lift to meet me and the sensation is almost too much. I lean down to kiss his chest, but the angle is not right. Braced by his hands on my hips, I lean back, feeling the flow and ebb of the ocean building inside me. There is only this – our bodies rocking to meet each other in spasms of ecstasy, our spirits entwined…

_______

Children run on the sand, chasing the waves then racing back screaming in delight. I am filled with a deep contentment as we walk along the beach in the sunlight. I decide that sandpipers are my new spirit animal. We laugh at how they move. We take photos of random things on the beach. I see a dog in the distance that turns out to be a log. We have to stop to kiss every few feet. I feel so present, anchored in this moment, this place, this human by my side…

_______

We snuggle down to sleep. My body hums with desire simply knowing he is near. I wrap my arms around him, pressing my breasts against his back. I try to sleep but the scent of his warm skin make me feel drunk. The back of his neck needs kissing. He gasps when I wrap my fingers in his long hair and pull his head back. His surrender leaves my cunt soaking wet. I grind my pelvis against his ass, wishing so hard that I had a cock. We fuck energetically, tension building until we can’t stand it.

We slide the dildo into the harness and he start to give me head. My toes curl and my back arches in pleasure. I can feel him sucking my cock. It’s unbelievably sexy. “How should we do this?” he asks…

_______

We wash each other’s hair. We rub soap all over each other, sliding around in the steam and spray of the shower, while music surrounds us. He kneels in front of me wrapping his arms around me. I feel loved and honored in his embrace. He stands up and we gaze into each other’s eyes. We kiss and the feel of him on my lips ignites my passion. I plead for him to fuck me but he laughs and tells me to wait. I go down on him instead, floating on a tide of sensation…

_______

When we fuck, it is rough, like a wrestling match, and yet he is always gentle. We fuck all over the bed, rolling around and laughing when not utterly intent. Fucking is not close enough. I want more of him. I want deeper. I moan face first into the bed, my hands grabbing fistfuls of pillows while he thrusts into me from behind. There is no me any more, only a fierce hot need. “Use your nails!” I order, “Harder!” He complies, nearly drawing blood down the length of my back. The edge of pain pushes me into pure bliss. We both come together…

_______

We come over and over in a spiral of building trust and learning bodies. We make love until our bodies give out. He stops mid-fuck, “How is your body doing Love?”

“My body is feeling great.” I protest, urging him to continue.

“Yes, but how is your body doing?” Oh. My body should stop.

He leans over me, with his long hair tickling my chest. I gaze up at him, full of love and desire, “Let’s be mermaids…”

_______

Before we leave, we walk along the sunlit beach one more time. I hover on the verge of orgasm, laughing and shivering with joy as each wave rushes to embrace us and we dance away. We see driftwood that looks like a sailing ship stranded on the shore. Our mood is bittersweet with the knowledge that all things must end, yet we are grateful for beginnings. Birth and rebirth. I walk into the waves to wet my hands. I touch the seawater to my face, my heart, and my cunt. I offer up my prayers to Aphrodite, “Lady, I am your vessel. Thank you for the love I have experienced. Let me be open to your flow. I will be a vehicle for love in the world.”

I woke up smiling this morning. You must have just left the bed because I snuggled into your warm spot, breathing in your scent. I let my mind slowly come into awareness. My thoughts wandered through my plans for the day and conversations we’ve been having. I remembered the way you went down on me yesterday when I said I was feeling turned on. My fingers began caressing my stomach and thighs – not with intent, just think of you and loving myself.

I stretched to wake up my muscles and bring myself more into my body. I am tender in places I didn’t know I could be tender! Each sore spot reminds me of some delicious time we’ve spent together. My ass aches where you gave me the best spanking ever. Every time I walk up the stairs my thighs protest from all the time I was on top and riding you as hard as I could. My upper arms twinge from hitting your balls with a mallet. Even the brush of the sheets on my nipples is enough to make me shudder in pain and longing. My clitoris feels swollen from so much attention from your mouth, and fingers, and the vibrator. I stretched out my body and realized that I am so happy.

This has been a hard patch that we are going through. I know we often go from dawn to dusk without a moment for ourselves. Things in our lives are changing. Transformation is usually stressful. I want to acknowledge that you are the joy in my life, the thing that keeps me going, my partner, and my friend. I appreciate your presence more than I can express, but I think my body is speaking for me.

We have made love 5 times in the past week, beyond the kind of diffuse lovemaking we share most of the time. We connect in so many ways. We are finally living authentically. When we walk around actively loving each other, slipping into intercourse feels easy and natural. Even waking up in the middle of the night so turned on that we fuck sweetly and fall asleep again! I love that we trust each other this much. Our relationship keeps getting deeper.

I want to thank you for staying with me through the pain in my vagina. I’ve sometimes felt like I’ve lost my identity without my sexuality, but I’ve never been without you. It’s been frustrating to have a part of my body so closely tied to pleasure feel so uncomfortable. I haven’t always known how to stay connected sexually. We’ve been creative. The pain hasn’t fully gone away, but I feel like we’re learning to live with it. I could not have traveled this path as gracefully without you to hold my hand.

So, my love, think about me today, as I am thinking of you. I look forward to slow steamy kisses, looking into your eyes while we talk about passionate things, objectifying your gorgeous naked body, and cupping myself around you as we settle in to sleep. If you happen to awaken in the dark and you are filled with desire, well, you know where I sleep…

At first I thought I had a yeast infection, a common enough occurrence for me. I treated with more probiotics and some boric acid capsules. When that didn’t work I begged my provider for Fluconazole. I was getting ready to go away for the weekend and the burning discomfort was getting worse. I decided that maybe I had a urinary tract infection. We debated seeking emergency medical care, but in the end, I just drank about a gallon of straight cranberry juice with some herbal remedy type stuff added to it all weekend and tried to get through it.

When we got home it was so bad I couldn’t sleep. We went to the emergency room at 2:00 a.m. because I needed to do something as soon as possible. I decided that as unlikely as it seemed, I must have a sexually transmitted infection, perhaps chlamydia or gonorrhea. For the first time in my life, I hoped and prayed that I had an STI, so I could take antibiotics and feel better in a couple of days.

They did indeed give me antibiotics, although it takes two days for the test results to come back. I was negative for yeast, UTI, or anything else they could get a rapid response on, but they want to make sure to cover their bases on those STI’s. I was given very strong antibiotics, which my chart clearly stated I was allergic to. Also, these gave me a yeast infection. Two days later my test results came back: all negative.

My awesome nurse practitioner talked to me about menopause and vaginal dryness. She prescribed an estrogen cream and told me to use tiny amounts. It burned like fire on my vulva for hours. I investigated and discovered that the cream contains propylene glycol, something my body hates vigorously. I had the cream reformulated at a compounding pharmacy, without the offending ingredient, but it was still irritating. We did blood work and found out that I’m not yet going through menopause.

I am not always good at describing or localizing a sensation. What I’ve been feeling continuously for the past two months (and intermittently before then) is usually a kind of burning feeling, just below my urethra, kind of partly on my vulva and partly inside. Sometimes there is more of a stabby sensation or needles, occasionally something like an itch or irritation. The awareness of discomfort never really goes away.

I wish it was some other part of my body, even a frequently used finger. A different body part wouldn’t carry all this difficult emotional baggage. A finger that hurt all the time wouldn’t be an uncomfortable and hateful reminder of childhood secrets. This pain is not severe, but I feel sick with it, immobilized, powerless. I am desperate to make it stop. I’ve spent too many years reclaiming my sexuality to lose it all so easily. I feel furious and then helpless all over again.

I went to see my therapist. We spiraled in and out many times, tying together the pieces of me then and now, making it easier for me to bear the current pain without the echoes of childhood trauma. In the moments when I felt like I might go mad she smiled and patted the back of my hand. In a stroke of brilliance, she referred me to a naturopathic doctor who is also a sex therapist.

The naturopath has been a great help. She’s given me hope, which is what I really need. And a name for my affliction, vulvodynia, which I suppose makes me feel less alone. Our first appointment consisted largely of her laying out all of the possible treatment options. She promises that I won’t be in pain forever. So far, we haven’t found the right solution. The only thing that seems to give any relief is ice. I suspect that the answer may lie in treating some GI issues I have and/or some pelvic floor physical therapy.

The doctor mentioned a need for spiritual healing in addition to everything else, a soul retrieval. No, it’s not science, but there is so much more to healing than science. So I’ve just come back from three nights at the hot springs. In the best Victorian way, I’ve been to take the waters and find healing. It hasn’t been what I hoped. In fact, I feel more dismantled than miraculously cured, but I have learned something very important: it’s okay for me to be exactly where I am.

It’s okay to read aloud about King Arthur instead of having kinky sex. It’s okay to cry most of the way home. It’s okay for me to hurt and feel sad and be angry and even to want to quit. The important thing for me to know right now is that I am loved for me, not the role I play. Unlike my childhood experience, I now have amazing resources that can use to fight my problems. I am rich in love. It’s seems strange to say when I feel like I am going crazy, but I am full of gratitude for the people in my life.

In the stillness of early morning, I watch him sleep. It might be the first time in all the years we’ve been together that I am up before him. I contemplate getting up to make coffee, but I know he will wake up as soon as I do. I want him to sleep. He looks so peaceful and I overflow with love drinking in the details of him. He looks both strong and vulnerable. My eyes go where I want to touch him – tracing the muscles of his arms, shoulders, and back. His soft lips are slightly parted. I am filled with longing remembering kissing him last night.

Yesterday was fun. We made love all day long, my orgasms getting more intense each time. He never came, although I gave him exquisite sensations. I enjoy instant gratification but there is something to be said for drawing pleasure out for as long as possible. Watching him sleep, bits and pieces of the day before drift through my mind: snuggling in bed, the warm steady weight of his body on mine, relaxing in the hot tub, his teeth teasing my nipple, showering together, long slow lingering kisses, shocking him by licking his asshole, painting each others’ nails, tormenting him with my feet and a lot of lube, watching the sun set in brilliant color along the beach, the just-right scent of his skin, feeding each other deliciously squishy bits of mango, and what have been hours of him going down on me. All capped off by seeing a shooting star just as he told how wonderful he thinks I am.

Photo credit: David Steinberg

Now, I can’t help myself. I have to touch him. I kiss and caress my way down his chest and belly. By the time I make it to his cock, he is groaning and mostly hard. Filled with need and desire, I am not in any mood to be slow or gentle. Gripping the base firmly, I take the entire length of him into my mouth. He communicates the intensity of his experience with his hands against my back, pressing and scratching.

I am so immersed in the moment – warm tangle of blankets and limbs, his scent and taste, the texture of his hair and skin, the hard and soft of his cock on my lips and tongue – that it takes me a bit to realize that he is begging for me to share my cunt with him. I oblige, shifting my body to straddle his face.

What had been warm desire becomes fiery passion. I am not sure whether to focus on his impending orgasm or mine. I love the rhythmic pounding of his cock against the roof of my mouth, the tightness of my lips around him, the twist of my tongue at the tip, and the quick plunge down again. But his clever tongue is doing something to my clit that I can’t ignore. I am gasping and moaning so hard I start to forget to suck.

Photo credit: David Steinberg

I climb off of him, face down, ass up, and tell him to fuck me. He pushes my knees further apart and slowly slides into me. His hands curl around my hips, pulling me to him as he thrusts. I feel completely possessed. I’m not sure where he ends and I begin, but I am grateful that we fit together so nicely. He is pounding into me hard and fast. I am rocking back to meet him with all the force I can muster. This is the most turned on I can ever remember feeling. The sensations are fierce, the quest for fulfillment urgent, yet the pleasure feels infinite.

I like this position because it feels amazing, but I rarely come. He slows down again and I ask for the vibrator. Without pulling out, he leans over the side of the bed to grab it for me. When I turn it on and put it against my clit, we both jump. For a minute we both just let ourselves be overwhelmed. Then he starts to slowly pull out and in again. I know the vibrations are translating to his cock as well. It feels so good it’s like pain. I think I can’t stand it, but I make myself keep going…

“There’s a park coming up on the left, just before the bridge. Let’s go check it out.” Just in time, he sees the turn I mean and swings the car around. We bump down the gravel drive toward the water. The parking lot is empty except for a park ranger’s truck. I groan inwardly. I guess we aren’t going to fuck in the car.

We get out and casually walk down the beach, arm in arm. There are maybe a dozen small boats at anchor along this stretch, but I don’t see anyone on board. My feet shift and slide on the rocks. The air smells of sea and rain. We’ve just missed a spring downpour. As we continue down the shore, around a bend to a place where trees grow out over the water, the sounds of traffic on the bridge fade into the background.

Now out of sight of the parking lot, we stop and kiss. A warm tingly feeling starts at the soles of my feet and rises up, filling my body with golden desire. We pull each other closer. I am deeply rooted in the moment, no longer aware of the cold or our surroundings. Love fills me until I feel that my chest can no longer contain the heat of my desire. I open to him, send my energy to flow into him with my breath. He gasps with the pleasure of it and I know that he feels me.

For a moment I transcend my body, this beach, everything. My consciousness soars and I am a part of all things. He brings me back with his passionate hands roaming my body. I pull away to see his eyes. I want to make love with him. Immediately.

“Let’s go check out that cool tree!” I say, imagining how awesome it would be to have sex on the broad trunk that slopes out 10 feet over the beach. The tree is amazing, but I suddenly feel too exposed. I scan the area for just the right place. There, up the hill a bit.

We climb an impromptu creek bed, rain water running back to the Sound. The fresh scent of the soil squishing under our feet turns me on even more. Part of me feels primal. Part of me is giggling over being transgressive.

We reach the spot I’d picked. We have a great view of the Hood Canal Bridge in it’s entirety, but no one will spot us. Anyone on the boats could see us, but probably won’t. Ditto for park goers. It has just the right balance of public and private to get my juices flowing.

We aren’t sure what to do next. We kiss and feel each other up with growing intensity. I straddle a mossy log and lay back, letting him undo my pants and pull them down to below my knees. He presses his face between my thighs while I contort and hang on with all I’m worth. The colloquial saying about something being as easy as falling off a log runs through my head, but it feels fantastic.

I really want to fuck! I convince him to stop and let me suck his cock. We usually take more time than this, but I am excited. I want him to fuck me from behind. We try it one way while straddling the log, pants pulled down. Then the other, hoping that the angle would be better. Finally I order him to lie on the forest floor and I squat over him.

I easily return to that sensation of being both extremely present and one with everything. I open myself to the world all around us, yet we are alone together in a bubble of our love. Every time I slide up and down the length of his cock, waves of pleasure ripple through my body. The sensations build. I feel my orgasm approaching and I move faster. His face contorts and I can tell he is also near. I draw the moment out, savoring that blissful anticipation, before giving myself over.

His cries ring out over the water as he finds release. I laugh until the muscles in my cunt push him out. I love him so much. I love him like this, on his back in the moss and ferns, by the water, his pants down around his knees. I feel happy and alive. We have so much fun together.

We dust off the dirt and leaves. We find a safer way down the hill to the rocky beach. We kiss and hold hands and look for interesting rocks. Back at the car we notice that the ranger’s truck is gone. We gaze into each other’s eyes, reliving that moment in the woods. We didn’t even get caught this time.

Happiness is being in the middle of a naked snuggle pile. I could see us reflected in the glass ceiling of the solarium: Harold and Woody both curled around me, our legs entwined, hands still roaming each other’s bodies. We made a beautiful tableau. After more orgasms than I can remember, I was feeling diffuse and abundant love. They were taking advantage of the lull in the action to geek out together over cool higher math.

My body was saturated with sensation. I was hyper aware of every touch, the unique scent of their skin, the warmth of our bodies together, the blues songs that filled the room and became part of the fabric of our existence, the taste of ginger beer spicy on my tongue and in their kisses, and the sunlight blessing us all. I could close my eyes and feel myself sustained by their strength, nourished by their love, safe in their arms. Not only do these men bring me great pleasure, they also make me relax and live in the moment.

Those moments were pretty incredible. I adored having all the extra stimulation. Being able to make out while someone goes down on me or having a cock in each hand is satisfying. It’s surprisingly challenging to give two hand jobs at once, especially since they each prefer a different style and rhythm. They had the audacity to suggest that I was doing it wrong, but I think it was just an excuse to spend time going down on each other.

It was hot to watch them, two mostly straight guys who have come into their own sexual power in their 60’s. They were passionate with each other. They performed fellatio with a hunger, like they’ve spent their whole lives thinking about what they would do if they ever got a chance. It obviously felt good. When receiving, they each groaned with head thrown back and body arched. I felt a momentary twinge of jealousy to be excluded from this ardent display, but watching them was so primal that I felt connected anyway.

The three of us are so full of love for each other. We respect each other and we feel comfortable being vulnerable. Each of us could ask for the things that we specifically enjoy and wanted. It was okay to laugh and cry and discuss Euler’s identity. I’ve been fucking geeks for most of my life and never realized how sexy logarithms could be, but it certainly worked for Harold and Woody.

It’s amazing how many different ways in which three people can combine. It takes a little bit more work than two people, but we are creative. The advantage to making love with older men is that they take their time. We can have sex for hours and it focuses more on my pleasure. The disadvantage of older men is that I have yet to make them both hard enough at the same time for double penetration or other such hijinks, but I think we’ll get there eventually.

It was a lovely afternoon, from eating sushi with our fingers and catching up to a wild tangle of mouths and limbs – from sensual overload to furious fucking ­– from soaking in the hot tub to dinner and a movie with the family – from Euler to Richard Feynman to Gregory Chaitin. Threesomes have a certain caché, but the time we’ve spent together isn’t like that. We aren’t just there to fuck. We are friends. I have incredible sex with each of them separately. Together we create a function of complex variables that has an amazing integral.

We finally reached a point where I lay limp in his arms, my feet tangled in the sheets, our bodies covered in a thin sheen of sweat. My tears and snot lubricated the skin between his shoulder and my cheek. Emptied of grief, I finally found myself floating in a place of comfort. It had taken all night to get there, but now, finally, 40 minutes before his alarm would go off, I felt the love and connection I had been struggling all night to find.

I fought him. All of my frustration and helpless rage needed out. I opened my mouth and all of the hateful bitter things trapped inside spilled from my lips. I didn’t want him to take it on, but of course he did, stepping into each of my desperate claims and wearing it around like an ill-fitting garment. Maybe that helped me, seeing how ridiculous he looked in my fears. But he would say, “This isn’t me. What are you talking about?” and his voice would be loaded with hurt as we lay in bed, surrounded by darkness, “You don’t even see me!”

And I would cry harder because I wasn’t talking about him, I was talking about my emotions, telling him about the things I need to work through because they are poisoning me. I wanted him to reassure me, to tell me that it was okay to feel, and to be my ally in finding solutions. I would tell him, “Of course I see you. I know you. You are my heart.” and I would writhe against him in agitation, “Please, I need help!”

I felt like I was drowning. Over and over, I would cry, “I just want you to hear me!” like I was begging for a life preserver. The middle of the night is never the best time to try to have relationship discussions, but we didn’t have other time. Exhausted and hopeless, I wanted to give up.

He got angry. On opposite sides of the bed, like continents separated by an ocean, we lobbed bombs at each other in futile attempt to make peace. I had no defenses, being open to him made me an easy target. Every word he said hurt, but nothing as bad as his final abandonment would, when in cold tones he explained that we were over.

It’s always all or nothing here. We give everything or we walk away alone. I wasn’t ready to lose what we have built. I made the same sacrifice I always make, silently wishing that he would apologize first sometimes.

Under the oppressive weight of my sadness, I needed his touch. I longed to be held, cherished, protected from this anguish. He came round to my side, slid under the heavy covers, and pulled my body on top of his. We would both calm with our bodies this close. I let go. I let go of my problems, my anxiety, the desperate emotions I can’t seem to resolve. I made a decision to believe him when he said that I was building walls against him. I lowered my defenses. I was vulnerable to him.

In his arms, I released my pent up emotions in a torrent. His anger dissolved under the onslaught of my tears and the absolution that what I was feeling is not about now, not his fault. I cried until I was empty, even dumping the vague feeling that I had betrayed myself. All that mattered was somehow finding each other before the night ended.

In those moments of stillness I experienced a strange high. I would feel strongly connected to him, but also euphoric, drifty, and hollow – a bit like a balloon on his string. Emptied of all thought and emotion, I found a pure meditative state where we held each other in peace until the alarm went off.

Just when I think that the new relationship energy must be over – that maybe we’ve exhausted our passion, or built up too much resentment for intimacy to feel good – sex is suddenly better than ever. The past month has brought a sea change in my relationship with Harold, perhaps born of many hours working through old pain in our relationship, but more likely simply paying more attention to some health issues.

It’s amazing how different our relationship is when my thyroid levels are back in balance and Harold gets enough sleep and takes vitamins. He says that vitamins give him the ability to act on the fact that he wants me all the time. Amazing! I can’t wait to see what happens when we both start exercising on a regular basis.

Our connection has always been sexual, but now we can’t get enough of each other – it’s been five times a week, sometimes twice a day. We are suddenly able to experience each other in ways that we’ve wanted but been unable to quite achieve. Harold topped me for a whole session, sending me into spasms of delight. I put needles through his balls, deeply satisfying his adventurous spirit. We played around with cupping while listening to old vinyl on the record player, bonding through a shared love of the blues. We’ve been seriously kinky and had so much fun!

My new favorite thing is being tied up and spanked while I’m on top of the Magic Wand. I don’t come quickly, but the ride is intense. Also, I’m enjoying being fucked from behind with a butt plug in, so it feels like I’m being fucked in both holes. Coming like that is beyond description. I’ve never felt so close to Harold as in those moments of pure pulsing pleasure.

We are more romantic right now too. All of that oxytocin surging through us is making us all mushy. We’ve been doing sweet little things to help each other, getting small presents that would bring joy, and leaving love notes. I feel like he is understanding me in ways that were out of reach before. We are both stretching, trying hard to be big enough for this fire that is our passion.

Not everything is roses. I can see how important it is for us to take care of our bodies and our psyches so we can keep having unbelievable sex. We still have moments nearly every day where we feel some twinge of pain or frustration, but now we have the golden nectar of love and sexual connection buoying our souls. For that balm, I will brave a few thorns.

I wake up to him going down on me. My body responds before I am really awake – legs wrapping around him, back arched, hands making fists against the sheets. In the tent under the blankets the scent of his skin surrounds me. The darkness is soft and warm. I focus on the feel of his tongue passing over my clit. When did I get so wet?

I need this man like water in the desert. I’ve been so horny lately, so stressed. In the very early morning he comes to me like a river. He flows over my body. His tongue says, “Be hot for me Baby. Go ahead and burn. I will ease your fever.”

I let go. Sleepily, blissfully, I melt into him. The whole huge complexity of the world narrows to one point. Love. I can forget about everything else for a while. My burdens will wait. I exhale and release all my tension. I’m floating, but his body anchors me. This is the safest I have felt in days.

Heat builds under his mouth. I realize that I am making loud moaning noises and I try to be quieter, but it doesn’t matter. I am pressing myself against him as hard as possible. He pins my wrist to the bed with one hand and captures my soul. I don’t know if he’s doing it on purpose, but this small decisive action tells me that he owns me. I give him everything of me. It’s all his.

He is still licking my clit with quick intense motions that make me twitch. Now his other hand roams up to my nipples. He gently pinches and my sounds get louder. I want everything all at once. I want to be right here forever. I want to come. “Harder,” I tell him.

He tweaks my nipples in earnest and my body stiffens as pleasure lances through me. Oh my god. I am gasping with each small jolt of pain. I am overwhelmed with love and flooded with lust for this man. I want more!

I love the weight of him on top of me. It feels secure, like a seatbelt. His is my shield against despair. I writhe under him, swollen with desire, blazing with need. He kisses me deeply and it is like diving into a lake on a summer’s day. His face is moist with my juices. I thrust my impatient tongue between his lips. His mouth is firm on mine. I invite him in.

I feel like a volcano heading for eruption, all lava and pressure. The feel of him inside me, pressing against my g-spot is nearly enough to make me explode. He hands me the vibrator.

That moment just before orgasm is the best – the slow build to powerful peak, poised at the edge of incredible intensity, striving both to slow the inevitable and speed the climax. I find it compelling and excruciating all at once. I think I live there.

He fills me. I am rocked by his motions. Suddenly, like seeing a waterfall approaching, I know I’m going to come. I get swept over the edge, and I am tightening around him in powerful waves. A flood of emotion overcomes me and then evaporates. I am awash in love. Sweaty, steamy love.

We snuggle in stillness for a few moments. Maybe this is the best part. I feel grounded, connected in a way that has been elusive lately. There are no words here, no need to talk, just us. In the early morning, in the warm quiet dark, we lie in each others arms and we whisper, “Let’s try that again in a few hours.”